Runs in the Family
by PsychoWing
Summary: Cassie was a normal teen, even with the horrible mother and deadbeat dad. Now that the Infection has spread, she's just trying to survive - and if she can find any of her family, then all the better. summary needs work; follows OCs
1. Chapter 1

I know, I really need to focus on standing stories. However, I can not help that I have an active imagination. The laziness and procrastination is totally something I need to work on though.

Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead, its characters, its concepts, or the concepts of anything else I may reference. I do own a few NPCs in this story though - namely Cassandra, her mother, and the soldiers. Warnings for some bad language (swearing) and perhaps gore, not sure about that just yet. Also, I haven't played the second game or any of the DLC so at the moment, I'm pretending they didn't happen.

* * *

**_Chapter 1_**

_I used to think that my dad was a loser and pretty useless, but at least he was there, sometimes, right? Turns out, all he needed was for circumstances to change._

_And change they did. The apocalypse hit, and the plagues were zombies._

_As much as I hated it before, now I'm pretty glad he taught me how to use guns. Well, him and mom's dad. I used to think there wasn't much point to it, like he thought about my electrical tinkering. Evidently we were both wrong. I've been making pipe bombs out of alarms and I've developed some other... goodies, shall we say, that have the same OGB quality._

_...I'm pretty sure he'd be proud of that, if only for the amount of destruction I'm enabling. If he were still around anyway. Stubborn bastard that he is, it doesn't mean he's immune and immunity doesn't seem to run in families from what other survivors have said._

_Anyway, why don't I tell you about what's actually happened instead of boring you with my thoughts?_

_It was a Tuesday when the world went to hell. School had just gotten out for the summer and I was getting shipped off to my dad's for a few weeks, even with all the reports of the epidemics..._

"God mom, do I really have to go? I could think of a hell of a lot of things I'd rather do."

"Cassie, you haven't seen your father in over four months or spoken to him in almost as long. He's expecting you."

"Yeah," the teen snorted, rolling hazel eyes with a hint of blue in them. "If he even remembers what day it is. Knowing him, he's already at a bar, picking a fight." She stuffed a small bundle into her bag with more force than was necessary.

"You used to love going to your father's when you were little. What changed? ...Did he do anything to you?"

"No mom! It's just that he's so embarrassing! He's a muscle-bound, juvenile idiot."

Her mother suppressed a cough. "I know your father isn't the most intelligent of men, but he loves you, even if he isn't very good at showing it. Now that you're older, you should give him a chance, try to get to know him better. I don't want you to regret not having a relationship with him."

"Yeah, fine mom. Whatever." She zipped her bag then threw a jacket on and crammed a baseball cap over her brown hair, pulling it through the hole in the back. "Try not to get knocked up again," she shot as she hefted her bag onto her shoulder.

"Cassandra!"

"What mom?" she snarled, spinning to face her mother. "You can't expect me to not think it when you ship me off every break and pick up some new jackass while I'm gone. You've had three abortions in as many years. And that line about a relationship with my dad is rich coming from you. When was the last time you even opened one of grandpa's letters? Either be a mother or be a whore. At least da–"

CRACK!

Cassie blinked a couple times in surprise, slowly lifting a hand to cover her stinging cheek.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that again!"

Cold eyes focused on the elder woman, the blue more pronounced with her anger. "Congratulations, mom. You've managed to turn out like a couple of those abusive fucks you keep managing to find." She shook her head and let her hand drop. "Why don't you try rehab again, but without treating it like a singles bar?"

Before her mother could respond, Cassie stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.

As she walked to the nearest subway station, she mostly ignored the warnings about the sickness going around and the people wearing face masks. The train she boarded was nearly empty because of this.

Cassie exchanged wary looks with the other two passengers, a couple, as she moved to the far end of the car and sprawled over a couple seats with the intent to sleep through the three hour ride to Fairfield.

* * *

The screeching shriek of the brakes was what woke Cassie. She sat up to see where they were, but she didn't make it further than her co-inhabitants of the car.

The woman was laying on the ground, legs splayed, and the man was straddling her, blocking any further view from Cassie.

Her lip curled. "Geez, get a room," she muttered, pushing up to look out the window. It was then that she realized something was way wrong.

The train was slowing, but that did nothing to lessen the harsh vibrations that were causing the train cars to sway so much.

A moan drew her attention and she looked at the couple again. Several things flashed through her perception in quick succession, as events are wont to do when adrenaline is involved, but not being absorbed immediately: the man getting to his feet, standing over the, as she could now see, dead woman; his turning; the blood splattered over him and smeared around his mouth; the glassy quality to his eyes; the train car jerking as it began to derail; the window next to the man shattering inward, one of the larger shards, through some insane move of fate, embedding itself deep into his temple.

It was as the man was collapsing that one end of the car slammed into one of the platforms at a station, throwing Cassie from her feet and tossing the bodies like rag dolls. She hit the edge of the seats next to her and fell into darkness.

_So that was my first encounter with the infection. Looking back, I'm actually kind of glad I was out for the rest of the crash. I have no idea how I managed to survive, much less come out with only bruises, but I'm pretty sure that if I had been conscious, I would have panicked._

_And people get stupid when they panic. I hate acting stupid._

_Since I was out, I missed the sound of metal crumpling and tearing like paper; I missed the screams of terror, quite a few of which I assume were cut off suddenly; I missed people crawling from the wreckage only to have zombies mob them; I missed seeing those people die, get beaten, get eaten, turn; I missed being one of those people; I missed losing that bit of innocence just then..._

_And I haven't decided if that's a good thing._

* * *

OGB - object likely to go boom


	2. Chapter 2

_I have no clear idea how long I was actually unconscious. Long enough for the zombies that had to have been drawn by the crash to have moved on again. I guess I was pretty lucky to have been hidden or whatever by the way my car had twisted._

_Thing is, luck will only take you so far._

A soft groan heralded Cassie's return to consciousness. It took a little for her to completely regain awareness but when she did, it was to very little light and an uncomfortable pressure against her chest. Breathing was mildly difficult but still possible. She shifted and, in doing so, realized that it had been the seats, warped from the crash, pushing her against the wall.

Several minutes, a handful of curses, and a lot of twisting and crawling later, Cassie pulled herself from the wreck, her salvaged bag in hand.

Hazel-blue eyes widened, staring at the carnage in surprise.

"How the fuck did I survive that?" she muttered, taking in how her car was nearly half the length it had once been - though it was in better condition than many of the others.

"Well, it's official. I hate trains," she grumbled, doing her best not to look at the mangled bodies as she busied herself with putting on her bag.

A quick look around the station showed her that there was no one else alive, much less standing, and that no one was going to come help with what had happened. She climbed onto the platform her train car had hit and a glance at the route map showed that she had gone only a couple towns, about an hour on the train.

Cassie debated going home or continuing on, as well as how to go about getting there, as she made her way to the street. Once there however, her thoughts went the way of her train when she saw the absolute chaos that had taken hold.

Cars were abandoned along the roadways, some even on the sidewalks. There were a couple fires going unchecked. Gunshots echoed in the distance, but there were no sirens.

Cassie reflexively checked her cell phone - no reception - and the time was, oddly, stuck at 3:32 a.m., even though there was still some weak sunlight filtering through the clouds, but assuming the date was correct, she had been unconscious for over a day and the sun was beginning to set.

Movement made her turn in time to see someone dash out of an alley, his expression terrified. Before she could open her mouth to call out, a group of zombies, no more than half a dozen or so, swarmed after the man and caught him, knocking him to the ground where they proceeded to beat the crap out of him.

She saw another zombie wander out of a different, nearer alley and turn her way. Rather than wait to see if it had spotted her, she turned and started running.

_I didn't know what was going on, but I knew enough that I should find somewhere safe and that those things couldn't get into. Easier said than done in an unfamiliar town... And without knowing what the fuck those things could do._

_I managed a couple days of avoiding the damn things, trying to leave town, and searching out supplies - food mostly, though I found a baseball bat, some odds and ends that gave me an idea, and ammo, just not a gun - before my luck ran a little dry._

A crash against the door, blockaded by a couch and the kitchen chairs, startled Cassie. A length of pipe and the pieces of a smoke alarm scattered across the floor as she jumped to her feet. She stared at the door for a beat before shoving most of the pieces into her bag and running to the window.

More crashes followed her as she eased onto the ledge and inched along the wall, toward the fire escape she remembered was just passed the corner.

Cassie was crossing the first window she needed to when a shotgun blast echoed out from the building. It startled her so badly that her foot slipped off the ledge and she landed against the window as she yelled in surprise.

A thud against the window made her reflexively jerk away and start to turn. This caused her to slip off and she barely caught the edge as she fell.

"I am so fucking stupid," she snarled, trying to pull herself back up.

The window above her shuddered and cracked, drawing her attention. She stared at the zombie beating at the window to get to her. A light passed over it as it shoved its arm through the glass.

Before Cassie could begin to panic, there was another burst of gunfire and the zombie above her was thrown out the window. She cried out, quickly dropping her face as shards rained over her.

There was a beat of silence before she began to hear voices.

"Since when do they sound like that?"

"They don't."

Slow and cautious steps neared the window then Cassie found herself staring into blue eyes just above the barrel of a gun. She and their owner blinked at each other a few times, both surprised to see a living and hopefully sane person, before the young man quickly shifted his weapon to rest against his back as he knelt at the window, reaching a hand down after pushing the mostly broken window open, bracing his other on the wall next to the window.

"I can help you up if you can grab my hand, but you're too far right now."

Cassie hesitated, eyes flicking between his face and his hand, then she bit her lip. She tensed then flexed her arms, lunging up, throwing out an arm at the same time. He caught her wrist and pulled her up and through the window before her upward momentum was completely negated by gravity.

She sagged to her knees once in and just looked at the pair in front of her, realizing that she could potentially be in a lot of trouble now. Maybe she might have been better off hanging there?

Both of them were military she assumed, wearing dog tags and urban camouflage and toting guns. The one who had pulled her up had an assault rifle while the other was cradling an automatic shotgun and they both had pistols at their hip.

For a few seconds she felt oddly self-conscious, seeing herself as they must be seeing her, before firmly shoving that down. She had dirt and oil stains on her jeans and the denim jacket tied around her waist, that and more on her worn sneakers, a hack-job on her hair (she had lost her ball cap at one point and had her hair get in her way enough times that this was much easier) that partially escaped said cap, a dark colored shirt with a small Grim Reaper over her heart and wings on the back that looked to be styled out of smoke, and a dirty, frayed bag that clanked when she moved certain ways.

"Are you okay?" the one who had the rifle asked, pulling his gun forward again.

Cassie nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." She got to her feet, not missing the way they tensed. At least she wasn't the only one wary of new companions. "I haven't seen anyone normal since almost two weeks ago."

"There aren't much of us left. Not in this area anyway," the other responded, glancing into the hall. "Clear."

"C'mon," the first said. "We'll get you to a safe house."

She nodded again, adjusting her bag and freeing the bat she had tied to it.

"What's your name?"

"Cassie."

The surprised glance he tossed her brought a light scowl to her lips.

"Okay," he said. "I'm Jim. Steve is going to lead. I want you to follow him and I'll be right behind you."

"Why aren't there more of you?" she asked after a couple of minutes.

"...The rest of what's left of our squad stayed behind to protect the civilians we've gathered so far. We're waiting for the okay to evacuate," Jim answered after a telling beat of silence.

Cassie 'hmm'ed in response then settled into her own silence.

As they were moving, she took the opportunity to study the pair. Jim was in his early to mid 20s, the shorter and stockier of the two, and had blue eyes and auburn hair. Steve was a little over six feet tall, gangly, had brown eyes, blond hair, and looked to be a couple years older than Jim.

Maybe half an hour of moving from shadow to shadow later, a bright red door came into sight. Cassie blinked and frowned, glancing at the soldiers. They looked a bit relieved to see it but after a few more steps, that relief warped into concern as they saw the door was open slightly.

Jim caught Cassie's arm, pulling her to a halt. She looked back at him then forward again as Steve gently nudged the door further open with his foot, shotgun at the ready.

The door clanged softly against the wall and Steve vanished inside.

Ten seconds and two shots later, Steve reappeared to wave them in.

"Hurry," Jim hissed, pressing a hand lightly to her back, pushing her forward. "That will have drawn attention."

Cassie nodded even as she darted forward, Jim at her heels.

Once there, Steve pushed her through the door to the bathroom. "Stay in there." He looked at Jim as he pulled the door closed. "I'll drag them out."

Cassie's argument died on her lips as she realized they were trying to protect her. She had seen dead bodies, obviously, but she hadn't seen any freshly shot ones. It was kind of irritating, actually, the way they were treating her like a little girl and had been since finding her. She was fifteen for fuck's sake! And she had managed almost two weeks completely on her own. That was more than could be said for most fully grown adults. And trained soldiers, apparently. She doubted that the evacuation had been green-lighted or that they would have left the two soldiers behind if it had.

Cassie crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. Then again, odds were that everyone in the city had been written off as dead, especially if the attempts at barricades were any indication. If they were going to get out, they were going to have to do it themselves.

Her head shot up at the scrape against the door and she grabbed her bat. She hadn't heard a commotion, but if the men were still out of the so-called safe room or Steve had missed one, then they could be coming back into a... well, trap didn't really work, did it? Those things weren't that intelligent, were they? And she didn't think ambush worked if there was only one, not that she was sure how many there were.

Cassie shook her head, knowing that she was distracting herself with inane thoughts. She needed to decide whether she was going to stay in here and hope that she wasn't found or step out, try to fight it off and, if she was able to, barricade the door. She snorted softly. Like there was much of an option - she'd have to leave this tiny, stinking bathroom at some point. Now was as good as any other time.

She cautiously grabbed the knob and began to slowly turn it, hefting the bat in her other hand. The door eased open, allowing the dull light to filter in, overpowering the flickering, dying bulb that was over the sink.

Seeing a dark silhouette turn toward her, she bit back a yell and swung the bat overhead.

It connected to the misshapen figure with a loud crack, but didn't seem to phase the creature beyond making it stagger back a step.

Cassie screamed, trying to kick the door shut as the thing reached for her.


End file.
